The Things We Lost in the War
by Valtiel Valentine
Summary: By the year 2022 the war against Bio Organic Terror is reaching it's last stand. Our heroes are on the ropes, they've lost almost everything. Leon Kennedy is one of the last men standing, and he's going down swinging. When Sherry Birkin is captured, Leon calls in backup in the form of Jill Valentine and Jake Muller. There aren't many of them left. Resident Evil's future is written.
1. Prologue

**Authors Note:** So while I tell a romance in one hand ("I will follow you into the dark"), my need to tell something bleak yanks on my apron strings. Here it is. I'm creating a vision of the future, you may even see the return of the Archangel. We're losing. But all Resident Evil game/movie canon is in tact. Now it's my story. And it's going to be a savage.

 _I dedicate this to fellow RE writer The Lady Frost and her love of Jill & Leon. Writers supporting writers is what it's all about, ya'll. Onward!_

* * *

 **And I find it kind of funny**  
 **I find it kind of sad**  
 **The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had**  
 **I find it hard to tell you 'cause I find it hard to take**  
 **When people run in circles it's a very, very**  
 **Mad world**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE: September 2022**

The ground squelched beneath Leon's combat boots as he made his way up the hill, the torrential rain saturating the ground and making it slippery. It was the kind of rain that blinded you and soaked you to the skin the moment you stepped out in it, it poured from the brim of his hood and droplets gathered on his nose. He blew them off and kept on going, it wasn't far.

Headstones rose out of the ground all around him, raindrops clinging to them like tears. Fitting, he supposed. The light was dim, the sun blotted out by heavy clouds plunging everything in to a shadowy grey hue. The worst day to pick for a funeral, but at least the rain had held out until it was over. It came down now like the heavens had decided to mourn, and she was still out there. She hadn't moved. A faithful partner even in death.

Leon reaches the brow of the hill and looks across to where she sat, in the mud next to the freshly filled in grave, knees drawn up and arms held tight around them. Her black pant suit likely ruined, she was completely soaked through to the skin. Not that material things meant a whole lot to anybody these days.

He glances at the sky as a thin streak of blueish light flashes across it, it wasn't lightning. It let them know the defences were holding, for now, at least. With a heavy sigh, he trudges his way through the boggy ground and toward her. She doesn't hear him, doesn't acknowledge him, she's lost in her grief.

"You're going to freeze." He says quietly, just loud enough to rise above the rain.

"What does it matter?" She asks him.

He considers this for a moment. "It matters because we need you."

"What if I'm done fighting?"

"You think that's what he would have wanted?" It's maybe a low blow, but the truth was they couldn't afford to lose her. They were down to their last, and all hope was lost if they didn't keep fighting.

Jill Valentine turns her face to the rain, looking up at him. Her eyes red rimmed though the tears were disguised. Washed away. Leon crouches down at her side, gazing at the disturbed earth of their fallen brother.

"It wasn't your fault, Jill." He says after a while, looking to her and her vacant, hurting expression.

"I couldn't get him out."

"It wasn't your fault." He repeats.

"It should have been me."

He purses his lips, furrowing his brow, shaking his head. "Well that's not the hand you were dealt. And the Jill I know doesn't throw in the towel when she makes a shitty draw."

"Well that Jill's dead."

"I don't believe that." He challenges.

"We're losing this war." She says it with a despondent, discouraged laugh.

"But we haven't lost it."

"Why are we even fighting when we lose everything we love?" She asks him.

He plucks some dirt from the ground, rolling it between his fingers. "Because there's people out there that haven't lost everything. And need us. Because if we don't, who will?"

She bows her head. "I don't even know if I care."

He studies her. "So you're telling me your entire life has been for nothing?"

Jill meets his stormy eyes, studying him.

"It has to have meant something, Jill." He presses. "We haven't been pissing in the wind this whole time."

She sighs heavily and lifts her hand, rubbing her sore eyes. Returning her gaze to his grave. "I don't know if I can do it without him."

"You can." He answers for her. "He would want you to."

Sad thing was, she knew he wasn't lying. Wasn't just trying to coax her back in to this war. He would have wanted her to fight on in his name. To finish what they started, to find a way. There had to be a way.

"Dammit, Leon." She says miserably. Looking at him and his stupid mop of dirty blonde hair clinging to his forehead under his hood.

He offers her a small, comforting smile. "Besides, I hear drowning is a really suckass way to go." He quips a little.

It makes her roll her eyes, studying him for a moment. "How do you keep going?"

"Me?" he asks with a lift of his eyebrow.

"You lost everything."

He grits his teeth together for a moment and looks at his hands. "I guess I just want to take as many of them as I can to the grave with me. And.. Sherry." He hitches a shoulder. The girl was like a daughter to him. "We rebuild what we can. You're not alone, Jill."

"I'm tired of rebuilding." She murmurs.

He reaches a hand out and gently strokes it over her back. They had both lost a lot in this war. Friends, partners.. family.

"You're not done." He tells her.

"You are annoyingly persistent, Leon Kennedy."

"Part of my job description. Right under 'Professional badass' and 'Kind of okay at pancakes'."

Finally, he gets a tiny laugh.

"You want some Pancakes, Agent Valentine?"

She looks at him, drawing in a deep breath as he rises to his feet and holds his hand out to her. She takes it, letting him pull her up. Once she's up, he draws her in to a gentle embrace. The two of them gaze down at the grave of Chris Redfield.

The man died like he lived. A soldier, a hero. A figurehead in this end of days. A leader in their war. If Leon had his way, it would not be for nothing.

Gently he guides Jill away, leading her down through the graveyard and back toward the church. People rarely used churches for prayer these days, there didn't seem a whole lot of sense to it, all things considered. But some old traditions held in place, they clung to the last of what made them human beings he supposed. Tradition was comforting. They still held funerals for their dead – the ones they could, anyway.

They reach his car, parked around to the side of the building, he helps her in and jokes about her getting his seats dirty. He didn't really care, this car had been through more than most human beings. American muscle really held up to all out catastrophe at least. As soon as he starts the engine, the stereo starts blasting AC/DC's "If you want blood, you got it". He grimaces and swiftly turns it down, looking at Jill.

"Sorry."

"No it's okay, Chris loved that track."

"I remember." He smirks, turning it back on, just not as loud. He gets them on the road and drums his fingers against the wheel as he drives the familiar route back to their apartment building. She lived a floor above him – lets just say America had gotten a whole lot smaller. Much of the East coast was lost, especially around the Great Lakes. Washington D.C had been wiped off the map. The smart move had been inland and to the west, now many of them called Salt Lake City, Utah their home. It was protected – the flash of blue you saw in the sky. Amazing how far technology could come and how fast, when the world was desperate.

The defences held. For now. People lived a semi normal life, here and in surrounding settlements. Places in Nevada, Arizona, Montana and Colorado. Even Texas still boasted a military base. It was just getting from place to place that proved.. a challenge.

Life went on. Because it had to.

Leon didn't know if the day would ever come that they would win this war.

But he had hope.


	2. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

**Authors Note:** Some of the answers you get now, some of them you wont get for a while. You're getting this picture in pieces, people. Onward.

* * *

 **Companion to our demons**  
 **they will dance, and we will play**  
 **With chairs, candles, and cloth**  
 **making darkness in the day**  
 **It will be easy to look in or out**  
 **upstream or down without a thought**  
 **and if I shed a tear I won't cage it**  
 **I won't fear love**

 **\- Sarah McLachlan**

* * *

 **Christmas Day, 2022**

He remembered a time when waking up on Christmas day brought a joy and excitement like no other time of the year. Even in to his early teens, he'd enjoyed it. Opening gifts with his family around a perfectly decorated tree. The giant dinner his Mother always served up for them, that food coma they all hit shortly after. Everyone spreading out on the couches in the living room to watch old movies and bide their time until they could fit in dessert. He grew up in Colorado and there was always snow, he remembered making snow angels and building snowmen with his little sister. Christmas was one of the few times they didn't bicker the day away, except for that one year when they were given a SEGA Megadrive and they got a tiny bit too competitive over one of the games.

Lauren was four years younger than him, they'd been your typical brother and sister duo. They argued, they disgusted each other. But he protected her with everything he was, and she always knew she had a big brother looking out for her. He'd gotten in to more than one physical altercation in his life for her, especially once she'd hit High School. He'd been in his senior year when she arrived – and she had just started growing in to her looks. Blonde hair, ice blue eyes, she was an instant hit. Even with guys in his year, and that did not go down well with Leon.

He'd knocked out one of his own Football team mates and been kicked off the squad. It had cost him quite dearly, a scholarship, the works. He'd had to find a different path in life – he'd ended up saving the world. He didn't regret it, he'd never regret putting himself on the line for his family. Besides, you make a locker room joke about wanting to drug and date rape Leon Kennedy's little sister? You better make sure he doesn't overhear. High school jocks were the dirt worst, by senior year he'd had enough of being associated with them anyway. Their antics always got under his skin, he just wasn't wired that way. He enjoyed the drinking, but the pranks and the sickening way they treated girls left him cold.

Fracturing Steve's jaw had been incredibly satisfying. Nobody joked about Lauren again. At least nowhere within earshot of another human being that might tell Leon. His life had worked out okay without scholarships. He'd joined the police force, wanting to catch the kind of prey animals that would make targets out of the vulnerable. It had seemed like a calling, something his protective nature would excel at. Of course, fate had had other plans for him.

He hadn't heard from Lauren since it happened. Since the world collapsed. He didn't know if she was alive or dead. There was no real way to find out. She'd been on an assignment in India when it all went down. He hoped she was alive, that she was surviving, somewhere. Somehow. But unless they won this war and reversed the damage done to the world, chances were he'd never know. Communication existed still, within the country it was fine. Between countries it was hit and miss, America maintained a stable connection between what was left of the UK, Japan, Russia and China. The rest of Europe for the most part was patchy at best. They hadn't heard from others in years.

It was all down to what each country could keep functioning. Internet was not what it used to be. But then, nothing was. TV was down to a handful of Networks and as there were no new shows being made, it was all reruns. Except for the news channels, which operated 24/7 and tried to keep them up to date on the situation around the world. It was tough, and travel by air was close to impossible.

The oceans were a minefield, and the virus unleashed hadn't just effected humans. It had effected birds. An unexpected side effect. You wouldn't think that would be a major issue, until the damn things started mutating. Now they had flocks of screeching death with talons and wings, waiting in the skies for their next meal. Some of them could take out a plane with ease. Each country found itself cut off, each city settlement within America remained pretty self contained. Protected by a barrier, a shield against the airborne threat. It was a technology beyond Leon's comprehension, but thank God for really smart scientists. The only people that really moved between settlements were the Agent's like him. The ones still hitting the ground beyond these cyber walls, searching for answers, taking down the bad guys that continued to prey upon the weak, searching for survivors – they were still out there too. People lived on beyond the walls, holding on, hoping for rescue. Scientists still worked every day toward a cure, something that could reverse the virus or at the very least wipe it out. So far they were drawing a blank.

Old rules remained. Shoot them in the head – and don't get bitten.

When it came to the birds? Run for your fucking life.

This war had taken a lot from everybody. He hoped each day Lauren was out there, still fighting.

The world was a very different place, and Christmas wasn't the same. But still, lying there in his bed and gazing at the falling snow out of his window, Leon felt a kind of calm. Letting memories of better days wash over him, sinking in to them for a while. Though eventually the need to pee gets him up and padding through his apartment to the bathroom, taking care of that and then standing in front of the mirror for a moment, running his fingers over a few days of stubble. He grumbles, it was Christmas, he wasn't shaving. Who did he even have to impress, anyway?

He glances at the wedding band hanging around his neck on a chain and lifts his hand to run his fingers over it. After a moment, he lifts it to his lips and gives it a kiss, then lets it drop back to his chest. He wasn't married anymore, but he took that little piece of the memory everywhere he went.

Leon wanders through to the kitchen, setting on some coffee and scratching the back of his head as he observes the snow covered city. Everything seemed so peaceful, you wouldn't think the world had almost come to an end. In some ways he had no idea how he was still standing, he really should be dead. But here he was. After a while his coffee's made and he heads in to his living room, lifting his laptop up on to the coffee table and opening it up. He checks the time. It would be almost 6pm in the UK by now. He hits the key and makes the call.

It doesn't take long for Claire Redfield to pick up. Her red hair and sweet smile answering him.

"Leon! Happy Christmas."

"Hey, Happy Christmas." He smiles to her, "You had a decent day?"

"I did. How about you? Still early there, huh?"

"Uh huh. Not even 10am yet." He takes a sip of his coffee. "How are things there?"

"Pretty good." She nods. "They've expanded the settlement here, beyond London. Really getting good sections of the country clear."

His eyebrow lifts, nodding. "Sounds like they've got their shit together better than here."

"No change there?" she asks, drinking from a glass of red wine.

"Not really. Everything kinda.. ground to a halt. After your brother." He says it quietly.

Claire looks down, biting on her lip. He didn't even really like to mention it. He'd been the one to break the news to her – Jill couldn't do it. And of course, stuck in the UK, Claire couldn't even say goodbye to him. She'd lost her brother and had had to deal with it a thousand miles away. He felt for her, he really did. "We haven't left the perimeter since."

Claire sighs. "How's Jill handling it?"

"She's surviving. Losing your partner is hard." He nods.

"And Nadia?"

Leon makes a face. "Nadia.. I need to go see her, actually." He sighs heavily. "Make sure she and the kids are alright."

"I was going to call her later, I guess they'll all be up now, though." Claire says sadly.

"Yeah. Probably. Hopefully the kids can have a decent Christmas without their Dad." It was awful to think about. Chris and Nadia had married after two years working in the Silver Daggers together. They had three kids. Twin girls and a son. The guilt of losing Chris that day sat heavily on all their shoulders – but most of all Jill's. She blamed herself for something she couldn't possibly have stopped. Blamed herself for three children spending their first Christmas without their father.

He needed to go see Jill, too.

Claire pulls in a deep breath and smiles. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too." He murmurs, drinking from his mug. "But you're okay over there, right?"

"Don't have much choice but to be." She says with a hitch of her shoulder. She'd been in the UK when it happened, a stopoff point for a TerraSave mission, nothing more. It had now been her home for over two years.

"We better get our shit together then, save the world, so we can see each other again." He smiles.

"I'd like that." She nods, glancing at the ring hanging around his neck. "How are you?" she adds, a little quieter.

He lifts his mug free hand to fiddle with the ring and nods. "Holding on."

"Never stop."

"You know me." He laughs quietly.

"That I do. Merry Christmas, Leon."

"Merry Christmas, Claire." He returns. Saying their goodbyes as the connection begins to break on them anyway, he signs off and closes the laptop. Drinking his coffee and staring across the room at nothing. Memories threatened to drag him down in to their abyss. He refuses. Draining his mug he takes it to the sink and rinses it out, then heads to the shower.

* * *

Snow crunches under his boots and he trudges his way back to his apartment building, his leather jacket not doing a whole lot to protect against the cold, even over a thick hoodie. Snowflakes fell gently and landed on his eyelashes, and his breath swirled off in wispy clouds. He should have worn thermal underwear or something, he felt like his balls were going to freeze off. Thankfully, it wasn't far back to his place from Sherry's.

Sherry cooked, and had invited him over to eat with her and Jake. She'd invited Jill also, but Jill had been a no show. Leon was a little worried about her, so he'd decided to call it an early night and head back to check on her. Besides, Jake had only just gotten back from a long mission beyond the perimeter, he and Sherry needed some catch up time. The pair had been a solid couple for a while now, and kudos to them. It was hard to keep any kind of relationship alive these days, attachments tended to lead to broken hearts. They were the only couple he knew still soldiering on.

Making it back to his place, he shakes off the snow and warms his hands for a moment. Then grabs a bottle of fairly decent whiskey from his kitchen cupboard, checks his hair doesn't look like a fluffy pile of hay and heads back out again. This time he takes the stairs to the floor above him, making his way down the hall to Jill Valentines apartment. As he raises his hand to knock, he says a small prayer to whoever might still be listening out for them that she was okay. It wouldn't be the first time he'd checked in on someone only to find they'd decided to peace out of this situation all together.

He raps gently on the wood and he waits, practically holding his breath. A breath he lets out when he hears the locks begin to rattle. He casually leans against the frame and when she opens up the door he presents her with his warmest smile.

"Leon.." she sounded so tired.

"Happy Christmas." He gives her a little wink, lifting his left hand and offering her a small gift. It brings a little light to her face, unfolding her arms from around herself as he gives the Snow Globe a little shake, then presses a small button underneath it. It begins to play a really obnoxious Christmas tune and she laughs, carefully taking it from him and inspecting the reindeer inside with his light up nose.

"That's adorable." She smiles, then frowns a bit. "And _really_ annoying."

"What I was aiming for. It'll remind you of me." He nods, lifting his other hand and showing her the whiskey bottle. "I thought we could commiserate together."

She looks from the globe to the bottle and then to his eyes, stepping back to allow him in. "Absolutely. I didn't get you anything.." She tells him as he crosses the threshold. He pretends to be horribly offended and makes out like he's going to leave, but he's obviously joking. She swipes his arm for it and heads in to the kitchen to grab them a couple of glasses. Leon makes himself comfortable in an armchair after shrugging off his jacket.

"How was Sherry?" Jill asks, coming back over and setting the glasses down. Leon unscrews the cap and pours them both a good measure, setting the bottle down.

"Good, Jake just got back so.. left them alone to have their own merry Christmas."

"Well, someone around here should be getting some." Jill jokes, setting down the globe at last and lifting her drink, she settles back on the couch, tucking her legs under herself.

Leon smirks, nodding. "I'll drink to that."

Leon would drink to most things. But that sounded like an especially good call. Jill lifts her glass.

"To getting laid."

He laughs, knocking back a good mouthful with her.

"So how are you doing, Valentine?" he asks when the burn subsides.

She sighs, sweeping her long brunette hair to one side. She'd let it grow, it was almost to her waist now and she normally wore it in a Lara Croft style braid. It was rare to see her with it down. It was rare to see her casual, actually. Dressed now in blue pajamas and a grey cardigan, she looked every inch the person in mourning. She and Chris might not have had the fairytale ending to their partnership, but they'd been friends and occasional lovers for over 20 years, until Nadia. Leon supposed it was hard to let go. The same way he'd had a hard time letting go of Claire. The same way Claire had struggled when he'd gotten married.

Love never really went away. And that was a good thing, he thought.

Funny how they'd all been reaching that stage in their lives, around 2018, when they'd decided enough was enough. They wanted more than just the fight. Wanted family, wanted kids, wanted the house and picket fence. So many of them had started settling down. Then the world decided to get crazier, rip it all away.

"Just trying to get through the holidays." She says quietly, tapping her nails against the glass. Even now, with the world in ruins, the holidays were always the hardest part. Commercials played on television showing all these happy families. When so many had lost theirs. Leon's had never even gotten started.

He frowns a little at that thought and knocks back another mouthful, nodding. "Yeah, glad when they're over."

She gives him a sympathetic nod. "How do you do it?"

His eyebrows lift. He thinks for a moment. "Distraction for the most part. Going to Sherry's.. seeing people. Takes your mind off of it."

"I feel like all I want to do is talk about it."

"Then talk about it." He says gently, "that helps too, for sure. Remembering them is never a bad thing."

"It still feels like yesterday." She sighs.

"It always will." it was a sad truth.

Jill swallows down the last of her glass and he reaches out, pouring another.

"I still remember every second of when Shiri died." He says thoughtfully, quietly. Sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, glass cradled in his hands. "I can replay it, moment by moment, in my head." He sighs and takes a drink, just a sip. He wasn't looking to get trashed. "Over a year ago now."

"I remember it too." Jill admits. She'd been in a helicopter looking down on the scene, there'd been nothing any of them could do to help him save his wife. Or his baby. Shiri was eight months pregnant at the time. "I feel like we've watched so many people we love die."

"We have." He nods.

"So why?"

"Because, there's still some of us left." He looks to her with a smile. "And there's still hope."

"How is there?"

"Every day they're making headway with a cure for this virus. Every month we find more people out there, surviving, that need us. Need our help. We're still in this."

"But what for?"

He laughs a little. "Jill, it's all we got. Trust me when I tell you there's nothing better on the other side. At least, nothing I saw."

She frowns and looks down in to her drink, swirling it around the glass a bit. "No bright lights or choirs of angels huh."

He shakes his head. "I was dead for a full two minutes. Nada."

She lets out a small breath of a laugh. "Maybe nothing is better."

"Nothing is never better." He taps his glass. "You will get past this. Don't let it defeat you. Chris wouldn't want that. I don't want that. And those kids need their Auntie Jill to stick around."

A pained look flashes across her face and she nods.

"Hang on to the memories." He tells her. "The good stuff. And do it in his name if you have to. But keep going." He tips his glass toward her. "If for no other reason than I need someone to tell me my hair looks stupid regularly or I'll develop an ego."

She laughs at that, rolling her eyes at him. "It does look stupid."

"Why?"

"Because, you're a soldier.. and it's all floppy."

He smirks. "I like floppy."

That gets him a side eye. "Well."

His turn to laugh. "Pervert."

"Please, I think I'm the only woman on planet earth that's never fantasized about Leon Kennedy's dick." She snorts.

"No need to hurt my feelings, damn." he pretends to be wounded, clutching his stomach.

They pour more drinks, adding some ice, getting to that nice – toasted place where nothing hurt and everything was funny. But you still had control of your faculties for the most part. It was usually where he called it quits these days. He'd grown up considerably over the past few years. Someone had to keep their shit together.

"Oh you know what I miss aswell?" She asks, as they reminisce about the things they lost in the war, "Bourbon street, New Orleans. That place did the best food.. like, every restaurant." She makes a groaning sound.

"Man, I haven't been there in forever." He says thoughtfully. "Spose now its just full of monsters."

"Probably."

"I miss its strip clubs." He grumbles.

"They were always full of monsters." Jill quips. Making him laugh.

"I was usually too drunk to know the difference."

"Ew."

Jill rolls her eyes at him and gets to her feet, telling him she has to pee. While she's gone he kicks his feet up and gazes around her apartment. It was pretty much the same as his, but more feminine. Though with piles of guns lying around – not that much more.

"You know what else I miss?" She announces her presence in the room, bringing his attention back to her as she sits and picks up her glass.

"What's that?"

"Sex."

He smirks. "I think we already toasted to that."

"Well we should toast to it again, because damn." She exclaims.

He doesn't object. Leaning forward and clinking their glasses together. "Of course, we should probably get some before we toast to it."

"Ugh, that means meeting people." She sighs, pursing her lips. "Nobody wants some washed up old soldier."

"Speak for yourself." He muses.

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you got some?"

He looks a little awkward, shifting in his seat. "You first."

"2019." She answers flatly.

He almost chokes on his drink. "Seriously?"

"Deadly serious. One of the groomsmen at Chris's wedding. I barely knew him." She nods. "Fucked him in his car in the parking lot."

Leon's amazed, and kinda in awe that she's so blunt. "Well, damn."

"Have I got you beat?"

"You have. But.. last for me was my wife.. so.." he hitches a shoulder.

Jill makes an apologetic face. "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, shouldn't have pushed that."

"It's okay." He shrugs, "like I said, it's good to remember the good stuff. Sex with Shiri was the good stuff. So.. nothing to be sorry for."

Jill sighs. "What is that, like, almost a year and a half, then?"

"About that." He nods.

"Man.." She pouts, "we need to get out there."

"Probably should. But at the same time.. I'm not sure I want all that again." He admits.

"Sex doesn't have to equal relationship." She reminds.

"True." He looks thoughtful, then takes a drink and chuckles. "Maybe we should just hook up. Get it out of our systems." he was joking, of course.

But Jill doesn't laugh. Instead she gazes at him.

He lowers his glass and looks back at her. "I was kidding, you don't have to look quite so disgusted."

"I'm not. I.. I mean that's not a bad idea."

He looks from her to the half drunk bottle of whiskey and back. "I think this is the point where we've had too much."

She laughs. "I'm serious. It's just sex.. we're two consenting adults. Why not?"

Leon looks a bit like a deer caught in headlights, he didn't quite know what to say. "Uhhh. What answer do I give here that doesn't get me slapped or shot in the morning?"

Jill bites her lip, uncurling her legs from the couch and setting her glass down. Leon swallows, watching her move. "You miss it, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then what's the problem?"

He stares at her. "I.. I don't know. I guess I just don't want it to be something you regret."

"I fucked a guy I didn't know in a car.." she reasons, giggling, "I wont regret it."

"So we just.. do it. And that's it?" He asks as she moves over to him on her knees.

"Yeah. No strings. None of that messy attachment stuff.." Jill arrives in front of him and tentatively lifts her hands to his denim clad knees.

"You sure?" He asks quietly.

"I am if you are." She bites her lip.

He leans forward, setting his glass down. When he draws back, he lightly brushes the back of his knuckle over Jill's cheek and she seems to shiver at his touch, leaning in to it, he turns his hand and flattens his palm, tucking his fingers in to her hair. He draws her up and in to his lap.

She moves easily on to him, straddling his strong thighs. It felt weird, she'd known Leon half her life and never looked at him in any way other than as a friend. To see him as more, even a purely physical more, was strange. She lifts her hands and brings them to his muscled chest, smoothing one around to the back of his neck as she dips her head to meet his lips.

Its cautious at first. Hesitant. Weird. It felt foreign to him too. Jill was gorgeous, she had the kind of body artists based sculptures upon – works of art that stood in galleries. But she'd always been a friend, a peer, and mostly – Chris' girl. He'd never looked at her that way before. But her mouth tasted like whiskey and passion and the warmth of her body against his and her weight in his lap seemed to trigger something in him that had been dormant for a long time.

He grips her hips, and as that kiss becomes more confident, he moves his hands to her ass. Pulling her closer, she rocks herself against him, encouraging him.

The kiss breaks with a pant from both of them and they search one another's eyes.

"This is weird." he mutters.

"Really weird." She agrees. "My bedrooms through there."

"I know, we have the same apartment." He answers. She grabs his face, silencing him with her lips. He lifts them both easily, rising out of that chair, he feels her tighten her legs around him. Holding on as he carries her through. He doesn't see the shoe on her floor and stumbles over it, grabbing the door frame to keep from falling. Jill lets out a laugh and untangles herself from him, bending over to pick up the few things scattered on her carpet.

"I.. really should have tidied this up first."

He chuckles. "It's alright, I'm not much better." He meets her at the foot of the bed. His heart was thudding. "We're really gonna do this huh?"

She gives him a slightly coy look, a blush rising in her cheeks as she reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning it easily.. until the last one which is really fiddly for some reason and it takes both of them and some laughter to get it undone. He shrugs off the shirt and she runs her hand over his skin. His body was ridiculous, he was all toned abs and chiseled muscle. Nobody should look like this, not at his age that's for sure.

She grazes her fingers over his sculpted abs and pauses at a particularly nasty looking scar.

"I think I have the same one." She says thoughtfully, then strips off her own top to show him.

He was less interested in the scar and more stunned that Jill Valentine was standing bare breasted before him. She was.. amazing. "Uh.. yeah.. pretty similar."

"What we get for fighting all the same monsters." She muses, then wiggles out of her pajama bottoms and crawls on to the bed, giving him quite the view of her shapely ass. It has him hardening in his jeans already, and despite the awkwardness of the moment, he follows her on to the bed. Slipping his hand over her back, she falls down on to it and draws him to her. Lips meeting lips. Skin meeting skin. He settles himself in the cradle of her hips and explores this brand new territory. Tasting her skin, trailing between her breasts as her hands tangle in that hair of his she always made fun of.

He breathes hotly against her stomach and she closes her eyes, that hot wetness of his tongue against the sloping flat of her belly makes her thighs shiver on either side of him. His fingers curl in to her panties and he shifts to his knees, drawing them down her legs, throwing them away. She watches him in quiet anticipation, wetting her lips with her tongue she decides to even the playing field. Sitting up.

She sits up right as he bends forward and she smacks her forehead against his chin. Making them both pull away with an 'Ow!' and then a laugh. Looking at each other. So they had some timing to work on, it wasn't a natural chemistry. Yet. She reaches for his belt, carefully undoing it and looking in to his eyes. Time to see what all the fuss was about, he'd sure been talk of half the women she knew.

Jill pulls the leather free and undoes the fastenings, freeing him from the denim confines. "Ohhh." She purrs, taking him in hand. "I get it now."

He chuckles after a small hiss of a sound as she grips him. "What?"

"You hid this well, Mr Kennedy."

"You're so drunk." He smirks, then he groans as she takes him in her mouth.

Oh Christ. His hands come up to her hair, tangling. His breath hitches in his throat, he'd forgotten what willpower was. It had been so fucking long. He needed to get a grip, or he'd blow this before it began – no pun intended. "Ohh Jill.. stop.. wait a second." He shudders and coaxes her off of him. She looks up at him a little wide eyed. "What's wrong?"

"It's been a year and a half is what's wrong.." he laughs warily.

"Gotcha." She laughs, her cheeks reddening again. He smiles back at her, leaning down to return their kiss. It still felt strange. But they were in this now, it was happening.

She leans herself back and he carefully covers her, she wraps her legs around his hips as he nuzzles and nips at the nape of her neck. His hand dips south, fingers exploring silky soft and utterly soaked territory. She was hot and needy and more than ready for him. It had definitely been a while. To that end, he takes care of her, easing two fingers inside her first. She moans and bucks against his hand, he uses his palm to hit that pleasure spot of hers and soon he has her coming undone. The sound of her orgasm, the relief of it, filling the room.

He kisses her breast. Strokes her gently as she comes down. And when he lifts his head to look at her he realizes she's crying.

A frown furrows his brow. His hands leaving her. "What's wrong?" He asks gently.

She covers her face with her hands, sobbing in to them.

"Jill.. Jesus.." he lifts himself from her, worried he'd hurt her or worse. "Are you alright? I'm sorry.."

"No! you didn't do anything." She sniffles, lowering her hands. "I'm sorry."

He sits beside her, watching her, unsure what to do. "What do you need?" he asks quietly. "You want me to go?"

"No! Please.. stay.. just.. stay with me." She gently grasps his forearm. "Just.. hold me?"

He gazes at her, trying to gage how good of an idea it was for him to stay. But she just needed comfort. Obviously something there had been more of a release than he'd realized. He understood. He gives her a small nod.

They reposition, and she turns on to her side. He carefully tucks up behind her and wraps his arm around her, holding her close as her quiet sobs resume.

Vigilant protector. He could do that.

He lived for it.


	3. A Prayer Under Pressure

**Authors Note:** Thankyou for the kind words. We're just getting started. More veils lifted - more to come.

* * *

 **There's nothing left to prove**  
 **There's nothing I won't do**  
 **There's nothing like the pain**  
 **I feel for you**

 **Nothing left to hide**  
 **Nothing left to fear**  
 **I am always here**

 **When they say**  
 **You're not that strong**  
 **You're not that weak**  
 **It's not your fault**  
 **And when you climb up to your hill**  
 **Up to your place**  
 **I hope you're well**

 **\- Our Lady Peace**

* * *

Jill cried herself to sleep. She couldn't begin to explain what had happened – and the look on Leon's face. The poor guy, she'd probably traumatized him for the rest of his life. Everything had just overwhelmed her. She felt like she was hanging by a thread in the wake of Chris' death, searching for something, anything to feel alive again. To cling to.

She wasn't lying, she did miss sex. Back in her heyday she'd been quite the little temptress. You wouldn't know it about her though, unless you knew it. She was picky about her partners almost to a fault, always very aware of her standing in the world. Of how it could look for a female agent in a male dominated world if she just satisfied every whim and urge that happened upon her. A fine line to walk – she supposed it was for all women navigating worlds traditionally populated by majority men. Women had had to fight for their right to fight for a long damn time, sadly, stigma held. Protecting your reputation became a priority for many ladies that chose some form of military as a career.

Jill played her cards close to her chest, always. You were a lucky man if you made it in to her bedroom – but if you did? You were in for a good time. She was as red blooded as any male on any squad out there. Knew herself, knew her body, knew what she liked and how to get it.

Now it felt like it had been so long since anyone touched her she'd forgotten how to do it at all. Chris had always been her safe place, her home, her friend and confidant. They'd been lovers, they'd soothed the nightmares, been what each other needed when they needed it. But a full on relationship was never to be. They'd talked about it, they even wanted it. But Nadia was willing to do one thing that Jill would not – settle down. Jill hadn't wanted to give up the fight, although Chris wouldn't have asked it of her.

Actually, that wasn't it at all. Maybe she just resented Nadia a little bit for stepping in and making him happy. Giving him the other thing that Jill could not. Chris had wanted a family. Nadia gave him that. Sad that he didn't get to enjoy it for more than a handful of years, sad that he spent most of it fiercely protecting them as the world descended in to madness. Sad – that Jill hadn't been able to save him.

Maybe Nadia could have. She was positive that was what she read in the other woman's eyes at Chris' funeral. 'I could have saved him, I was always better than you.'

She was probably right.

Sometimes pain and pleasure went hand in hand, and as the relief of that physical release washed over her, some kind of dam had broken. She'd just burst in to tears. Love and loss, an ache inside, a temporary bliss. Did a part of her feel bad for feeling good? Maybe she did. Maybe she felt like she didn't deserve it. What she did deserve was to suffer for letting those children down, for not saving their Dad. For not keeping Chris here, where he belonged.

It should have been her.

She wakes in Leon's arms. He'd stayed, as he promised he would. He'd guarded her through the night, loaned her the strength to get through it. He was a good man – he'd lost so much and yet he still clung to hope. She had no idea how he did it. How he faced each morning knowing that the love of his life and their unborn child had been taken so cruelly. A son he'd never get to know. Never got a chance. It was heartbreaking, if you thought about it too much. And Shiri, he'd loved her as long as Jill had known him. Having your soulmate torn from your arms.

Jill felt that pain on a feral, primeval level. It was impossible to come to terms with, wasn't it? So where did he push it all down to? Leon Kennedy was the kind of survivor Jill had always thought she was, but as it turned out, he was probably the best of them.

The best of the last of them. A dying breed. The ones that had seen this through since the start. The ones that still remembered Raccoon City as one of the worst days of their lives. So many people had arrived in the world and grown up since then, hearing about it only in history books and documentaries. If you really want to feel old, talk to a 16 year old now and tell them you survived Raccoon City. Likelihood was they'd look at you and go 'what?'

She lifts her hand and rubs her sore eyes, they felt gritty. Full of sand. She hated crying. Loathed it with a passion. She never used to cry much, these past weeks she felt like it was all she could do.

Was he awake?

She tilts her head back a little, trying to see him. He doesn't move. She listens and his breathing still seemed deep, the lightest breath of a snore. A little smile drifts over her face. Chris snored like a trooper. Sleeping with Leon must be peaceful.

He'd covered them both with her sheets at some point, but as she lifts them slightly she realizes they're both still naked as they day they were born. She bites her lip, feeling guilty. She'd brought him in here, gotten him all wound up and then he'd had to nurse her through a breakdown. She winces, lifting her hand to her face in embarrassment and guilt. She didn't regret the plan, they were both consenting adults and sex could just be sex. But she regretted her behavior.

Why couldn't she just get it together? Why did this still hurt so fucking much?

Poor guy.

God he looked good, though. She frowns a little, allowing herself to perv just a bit. How old was he now? 45? 46? Something like that. Who had abs like that at their age? She felt like hers had gone to mush no matter how hard she worked out. Everything was starting to age and give up. As if it wasn't hard enough to feel sexy when parts of your body looked like they'd been in a one on one brawl with a cheese grater. Now stuff was sagging.

Leon though? He still looked like someone had freshly carved him from a rock. With a nice amount of chest fuzz and a whole lot going on down south. Jeesh, she knew why he was talk of half the bases she ever ended up on now.

She blushes for thinking it.

Maybe she should finish what she started?

Biting down on her lip, she carefully turns under the weight of his muscled arm and that does it, he wakes, his eyes sliding blearily open and taking a moment to focus on her, facing him now.

"Hey," she whispers. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, it seemed appropriate.

"Hey.." he answers, lifting a hand and scratching his nose – a frown fleets across his brow. "How are you feeling?"

"Bit better. I'm sorry I kinda.. had a meltdown."

Leon smiles gently at her, offering a small shake of his head. "Don't worry about it. Got through the night, that's what matters."

Jill studies him for a moment. "You're always so selfless. I've noticed that about you."

"Am I?" he chuckles a little, shifting on to his back and scratching his chest. He liked to scratch. It was a man thing.

"You are."

"Prefer to think of it as just.. doing what feels right."

"Hm." Jill considers this. "You deserve to be selfish sometimes, though. Everyone does."

He hitches a shoulder against the mattress. "Sometimes, I guess. I've been known to make some pretty personal decisions. I'm no saint."

"Just do what feels right.." she repeats in a murmur.

"My philosophy." He laughs under his breath. He should put some pants on, get up. Get out of his friends bed.

But then her hand lightly rests on his chest and his eyes drift from the ceiling to her.

"I should probably ge.."

"Shhh." She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Then lifts herself a little, moving closer.

"What are you doing?" he asks in a quiet rumble.

"What feels right." She answers, carefully straddling his thighs. He lifts his head, watching her as she runs her palms over the tops of his legs and along his stomach, fingers tracing the valleys of his abs.

"Jill.. I.."

She lifts one of those hands to her lips, silencing him, sitting there entirely naked on him. He couldn't hide the response his body was having. It makes her smile. A glimmer of the old Jill. The Jill she knew, returns. Her hand closes around him and she watches his expression change. From curiosity and apprehension to giving in to pleasure.

Good. She owed him one.

She brings her mouth in to play and she returns the favor.

The relief of his release doesn't reduce him to tears, but goddamn does it feel good. She climbs off of him once he's done, telling him she'd make them coffee.

"You're welcome to recover as long as you like." She winks, grabbing her robe and slipping it on as he lay there in a daze, panting.

"Thanks." He manages. It makes her laugh. He actually was kind of adorable, she could sort of see it, maybe. That ridiculous hair, though.

She heads out of her bedroom feeling a little more like herself. Like she'd taken something back in there, by giving to him. A part of herself, a confident, stronger Jill. She was still in there – somewhere. Maybe she could be brought out of hiding in time. And that was what everyone said, wasn't it, time. Time and patience. Time heals everything. Time destroys everything. It was always time.

She sets the coffee machine and makes a pit stop in the bathroom. When she returns, he's up. Looking a tiny bit awkward. Jeans on, beltless, they hung on his hips and revealed that delicious V shape toned men always sported. She'd lick her lips if it wasn't entirely too obvious. He needed to stop looking like that.

For Leon's part, he _was_ in a daze. His mind gone to mush. It's one thing to, uh, handle it yourself. It's a whole other when a gorgeous woman does wonderful things. He'd almost forgotten what it was like. Almost.

"Are you okay?" she asks him, amused by the look on his face as he wanders over.

"Yeah. I'm good.." he nods, studying her, then laughing a little. "Surprisingly."

"Uh huh." She gets two mugs. "Are you one of those men that's stupid for about an hour after he comes?"

He blinks, leaning against her counter. "Um. I might be now." He drums his fingers on the counter.

She smirks, pouring them both some wake up juice and asking him what he wanted in his.

"Nothing. Black." He was easy to please and takes the cup as it's handed to him. She adds some sugar and cream to hers.

"That's such a man coffee." She comments.

"Gotta balance out the girl hair." He winks at her, and it makes her laugh, which was wonderful to see.

Jill blows steam from the top of her mug. "So, on a scale of 1 to 'Jesus take me now'.. how awkward are we feeling?"

Leon considers this carefully. "I'm at about a 5."

"Really?" She lifts an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah."

"Why?"

"Well I definitely don't regret it.. but it's just.."

"A bit weird."

"It was kinda weird.. wasn't it?" He looks for confirmation.

"It was." She laughs. "But not bad weird. Just.. this is a transition, weird. And we didn't even have actual sex!"

"Ha, maybe we'd both be a few numbers higher if we had?" He muses.

"Who knows."

"What number are you at?"

"About a 3.. for the not sex. About an 'Earth open up and swallow me' for the breakdown." she covers her face with her free hand, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry."

He frowns again and sips from his mug. "Already told you, don't sweat it. All good."

She lowers her hand, smiling at him.

They're quiet for a little while, drinking their coffees, considering breakfast. She begins to examine what she has in the fridge, which isn't much. She'd barely been taking care of herself lately, getting groceries was the last thing on her mind.

"Wanna come down to my place?" he asks. "I got pancakes."

"Ooh." She swings her fridge shut. "I never turn down a pancake."

He nods. Finishing their coffees, they dress and on the way out of her apartment she pauses in the doorway, stopping him. He looks back at her curiously.

"We got through the holidays!" She exclaims.

He smiles. "We did."

"Thank God." She rolls her eyes and makes him laugh.

"C'mon, before I starve." He coaxes her on.

* * *

The ground fractures beneath them, the tower block they stood upon sways under the strain of the damage it's sustained. It was falling apart, it wouldn't be long before it collapsed. Leon looks to the sky, spotting the chopper not far off. If they could just hold out. If they could. He looks back to his wife, clutching her belly in a fiercely protective Mother Bear way. Despite their dire situation, it brings the tiniest smile to his lips.

A smile that's dashed away as the hammering to the rooftop door grows louder and the fracture in the rooftop cement suddenly splits open, the building was going to fall. It's slow motion for him, time ceases to really have any meaning. She realizes what's happening and looks toward him, he outstretches his hand and she grasps it. The ground gives beneath her and he doesn't let her fall, he catches both of her wrists as the side of the building falls away and threatens to swallow her whole. He growls under the strain, but he pulls her up. She climbs, she was a survivor, one of the strongest survivors he knew.

She gets to her feet and their eyes meet. That was close.

The chopper arrives above them. Jill Valentine yelling down – Chris Redfield the pilot. They came. They never let him down.

"Shiri, Go!" he wants her to safety first, "Jill will pull you in."

His wife nods, making for the ladder Jill throws down. Even heavily pregnant, Shiri moved like a gymnast. She took his breath away, always.

And then it happens.

His face falls. From the side of the building it rises like a phoenix drenched in blood, skeletal wings spreading, held together by tendrils of decaying meat and flimsy damaged skin. It screeches it's intent.

He can't do anything. She was hanging there on that ladder.

"SHIRI!" He yells her name.

Jill reaches down her hand but she's so far away.

The creature lunges from the side of the rooftop, its giant wing smashing in to the helicopter, knocking it in to a spiral Chris fights to get under control. And all Leon can do is watch. The angel of death rises above his wife as she draws her gun and fires at its razor beak. But it's the talon of it's claw that takes her. It wraps around her, it pierces straight through her chest. He sees the blood bubble up from her mouth, the fight leave her eyes, the gun slip from her fingers.

Once it was an Eagle. Majestic and proud. Now it was the thing Leon feared more than anything in the world. It plucks Shiri, lifeless, from the ladder – and flies away holding her and his unborn son in its claws.

And there's nothing he can do.

Gone.

Leon wakes with a jolt in his apartment, his face streaked with tears. He sucks in a breath, his chest hurt. He scrambles to his feet and to the bathroom where he promptly throws up. It leaves him gasping, struggling to regain his composure. It wasn't just a dream because it had really happened - now and then it was like his brain turned against him and decided it wanted him to relive it.

God he missed her.

He sits there on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, his wedding band clutched in his hand. It was all he had. All he had of their marriage. Of her. He'd had no body to bury, their home disintegrated along with the tower. He didn't even have a photograph. All he had of Shiri now was his memories. His memories and the ultrasound scan of their unborn child which he'd kept in the wallet he had in his pocket that day. That was it.

Over 20 years. But he remembered every second. Every fucking second. He'd never let go.

"I miss you." He whispers, clutching that ring.

He never got to say goodbye. But he hoped she knew how much she meant to him. He hoped he told her enough.

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. Regaining control over his racing heart and the turmoil in his stomach. When he opens them, he hauls himself to his feet and goes to the sink, rinsing his mouth out and washing his face. He looks at his reflection in the mirror wearily. "Happy new year." He mutters to himself.

It was now the year 2023. He had never pictured 2023 looking quite like this. Back in 2018 he'd pictured just him and his wife, living peacefully somewhere, making babies, being retired. Maybe a farm, though he didn't suppose Shiri would take too kindly to being deprived of her creature comforts. She always had enjoyed the finer things, it was part of what made them such a perfect yin and yang. She tidied him up – he dressed her down. Balance.

She was always his balance.

Leon rubs his eyes and takes a shower, then pads half dressed in to his living room. Switching on his laptop, there's a handful of messages wishing him a good new year and all the usual stuff. Then one from his superiors. Yes, he still had them. He still worked for what was left of the government. Smaller now – isolated. Not much more than a collection of people still fighting the good fight. But it was something.

He sits down and rubs his face, then returns the call.

"Agent Kennedy, good morning."

"Hey." He answers casually. A lot of the pomp and pageantry of their old lives was gone. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, we've picked up a distress signal beyond the perimeter."

He lowers his hand. "How far out?"

"Around six miles, it's not moving. I think they must be pinned down."

Leon grimaces. "Well if its the undead then.. a small team of us can probably handle that and get them out."

"Suggest you approach with caution. We've had a lot of activity in the skies over the holidays."

"Great, just what I needed to hear." He grumbles. "Who's available?"

"Agent Birkin has already checked in. She's putting together a small team now."

Leon nods. "Alright, I'll be there in an hour."

"Very good."

Leon gives a little salute with two fingers to his head. It's a casual, lazy thing and means nothing. Then he signs off. Puffing his cheeks out and cracking his neck from side to side. Time to go kick somethings ass, and he hadn't even had breakfast.

He drags on black combat pants, a tactical shirt, holsters and his leather jacket for the coverage. Kevlar was a waste of time these days, not many people out there shooting guns. There were the odd packs of people that thought they were in Mad Max or something, but they were few and far between. He supposed he could understand going fucking crazy out there. Why not? Might as well cut loose.

He arms himself well, three different guns and two different knives. A couple of explosive charges for if things got really out of hand. Or he felt like blowing something up – which was always a possibility. It doesn't take long for him to get ready, and he's out of the door within thirty minutes. He pulls on his fingerless leather gloves as he walks and pops some gum in his mouth as he gets in the elevator.

He briefly wonders how Jill's doing. Since their Christmas rendezvous she seemed to be getting a little better. She wasn't back on active duty yet, she couldn't face it. But he felt like soon she'd be able to. She'd feel strong enough. It had taken him five months.

They'd seen each other since, of course. It wasn't awkward, which was a relief. It was just like this thing they'd done that had been good and now it was done. She had arrived at his place a couple of nights ago and asked if she could stay, but she'd just wanted the company. To not be alone. And he could completely understand that. They'd slept in the same bed together, clothed. It was nice. Nice to have someone there.

She'd admitted something to him that night that had struck a chord in him. He leans against the elevator wall and closes his eyes, remembering.

" _I always kinda thought you and Chris were meant to be together."_

 _"So did I. But, I guess we just wanted different things."_

 _"How so?"_

 _"Well, he wanted a family."_

 _"And you didn't?"_

 _"... I can't have one."_

 _"What?"_

 _"I can't have kids. It's.. a physical impossibility for me. After Africa, everything that was done to my body. I just.. can't. And he really wanted to be a Dad. So I guess.. Nadia could give him what I couldn't."_

 _"Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't know."_

 _"Guess we weren't as meant to be as we thought."_

The Elevator comes to a stop and makes that annoying ding sound. Leon opens his eyes, chewing his gum and sighing. Shitty things always happened to good people. It was the way of the world. Jill had all that shit done to her body and now she couldn't ever have a family. What a heap of shit Albert Wesker was. Death was too good for him.

Leon despised people that used others – for anything. But to turn another human being in to your own personal test subject. It made him angry in a way he couldn't define. If Wesker wasn't dead already, he'd hunt him down and kill him again.

Strange that such an evil piece of shit had produced such a good kid though. Jake Muller was an apple that couldn't have fallen any further away from it's tree if it tried. There weren't many people Leon would trust with Sherry, but Jake had proven himself time and again. He was one of the few Leon would trust with his own life and with others.

The drive to the former police Station that now acted as a base of operations for the government and military forces here in Salt Lake City is thankfully a short one. Ice made the going – interesting. He trudges through it and into the building. Instantly spotting Sherry. He smiles at her.

"Hey kiddo."

"Leon! They said you were coming."

"Yep, been a while since we hit the bricks together." He chuckles. Reaching out and ruffling her hair, which she utterly hated. She swats him away and then gives him a shove. She really did remind him of his sister. Only even younger. "You have a good New Year?"

"Ugh, Jake and I got in a fight." She makes a face, "which is why he's not here."

"Where is he?" Leon frowns.

"Took off on his bike. You know how he gets."

"On his bike? It's black ice every ten feet out there."

Sherry rolls her eyes, nodding. "Yeah so I've been up worrying about him since he left. Thanks a lot."

"What did you fight about?" He asks curiously. It was unlike Jake to take off. In fact it was unlike Jake to even fight with her, as far as Leon knew.

"Oh it's.. not important." Sherry waves him off and their Superior arrives, handing them the details and a digital map of the rough area the signal was coming from. Leon's given a tracker that would let them know when they were on the right path and getting closer.

"Looks like it's just you and me then." Leon shrugs.

"I swear I'm going to kill him." She sighs.

"Don't worry about it. We'll stick to cover, take some bigger firepower. We'll be fine." He nods.

By bigger firepower, he means one of the armored trucks with a very large gun attached to it. Added bonus of it being as heavy as shit, it wouldn't skid around all over the place if they encountered more ice and snow out there.

Leon takes the drivers seat and Sherry sits at his side. He glances at her as he starts the truck up. She looked a little distant today. He supposed she was worrying about Jake.

"Sure you're good to go out there, kid?" he asks.

"Yes, absolutely. Lets do it." She gestures for him to drive.

"Jake's a tough guy, he'll be fine."

"I know. My minds on the job. I promise." She laughs a little.

He nods and gets them on their way. Their first stop? The gateway leading out of the perimeter. You could hear the electric sounding hum as you drew up to the shimmering shield that protected the city. It was like looking at the surface of a bubble. It allowed weather through, but nothing else. Guards were stationed all around it's substantial edge, to make sure no civilians accidentally walked in to it and toasted themselves. The technology hadn't been perfected a year and a half ago, things had still gotten through. The thing that killed his wife got through.. a settlement in Phoenix that was now in ruins. Fitting name for a dead city.

They show their ID's and the gateway is opened. His stomach always did a little flip flop as they drove out of their literal bubble and into the world. It was like a switch flipped in his head. Brain on. Time to get on your game, Agent Kennedy. Time to get eyes in the back of your head, become hyper vigilant, get shit done.

The roads were clear for a few miles, nothing but countryside. Utah was a wilderness. They keep an eye on the sky and Sherry monitors the radar like device, searching for life signs. So far it seemed luck was on their side. The birds tended to stick to either the mountains or the old towns. Where they might find prey, either people or other animals. Of course all of this had done wonders for nature – in a way. It had reclaimed a lot of the land. Trees and fields overgrew, herds of horses and cows and all manner of things expanded. They had predators in the sky of course, but for the most part – the wild plains of Utah were thriving.

It also meant that in the towns and ruined cities you didn't just have to look out for the undead – but bears, wolves, prey animals that no longer had any deterrents in place. It kept you on your toes, for sure.

They're nearing the town the beacon was coming from when it happens. Leon averts his eyes from the road for a second, tapping the screen of the digital map and expanding, looking for the best route once they hit the streets.

"LEON, LOOK OUT!"

He instantly looks up as Sherry screams. Expecting the giant wings of an aerial death machine to shroud them. Instead, a truck double their size slams in to the side of theirs, tipping them over. Shunting them along. Its a smash, and a crash, and a lights out.

The shadowy talons of unconsciousness dragging him down in to an abyss.

There, he finds Ada Wong. He finds memories. Seemed like his head was set to nostalgia for the new year. He remembered this. He remembered this place.

The first time he saw her after everything that happened in Lanshiang.

She explained it all. What had happened. Carla. Set his worrying mind at rest.

She told him she couldn't stop thinking about him, that she'd needed to let him know. That she wanted him to have the truth – after all these years.

"Are you ever going to tell me your real name?" Leon asks her over expensive sushi.

Ada smiles at him over the table, using her chopsticks to pick up some lobster tail.

"Shiri... its Shiri."


	4. Gone Girl

**Authors Note:** My transitional chapters always feel odd to me, I don't know why. Lets get this show on the road.

* * *

 **The only reason you're still alive is because someone  
** **Has decided to let you live**

 **\- KMFDM**

* * *

 **December 31st, 2013**

Leon sat on the roof of his apartment building, gazing out across Washington D.C as it celebrated the end of a turbulent year. He nursed a beer in his hand and hung his legs over the edge of the wall he was perched upon. Why would he fear sitting on the side of a 15 floor building, a death drop under his feet. He'd hung off the side of a skyscraper just months ago – to save a woman he loved and yet barely knew at all. Ada had had a piece of him for twenty years, a piece that defied logic or reason. Warning signs could spring up all around her, and yet he held on. There was just something about her, some would call him blinded. But when you were a person that spent your whole life saving others, it was hard to let go when someone turned the tables and saved yours. Ada had done that, more than once.

Their meetings in the field were always fleeting and intense, he always felt like he looked at her across a void. Like they were different sides of the same coin, never quite serving the same purpose. Their meetings away from the turbulent world of Bio Terror?

Intense was too casual a word. They never talked about work, the soldiers they were ceased to exist. They were just Leon and Ada, a guy and a girl with a chemistry that had never been matched. Not for him anyway. There was a reason no other woman ever compared, maybe that was the reason he couldn't let go. Maybe it was all physical. Or maybe it was because he couldn't have her. She was the only woman that eluded him, that didn't actively want to be his. And that drove him crazy.

He didn't know why he couldn't just move on, find happiness with someone else. There were no answers at the bottom of this bottle either – there likely wouldn't be at the bottom of the next one. After Tall Oaks and China, he was even more confused about this woman that had his heart. What was she? What he had seen on that video tape wasn't an illusion, it was real, that was her emerging from one of those pods. It made his stomach knot up to think about, all this time had he been lusting and fawning over a freakin' Bio Weapon? Wouldn't that just be the irony of the century.

He snorts to himself, taking a swig from his bottle and casting his gaze to the right as a firework shot across the sky. It wasn't quite midnight, but almost. He'd been invited to an office party and declined, these days he really preferred the quiet of solitude. His phone left in his apartment, nobody would think to look for him up here, he could be alone with his thoughts and his memories, he could drown them in peace.

Or so he thought.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to live life on the edge?"

Her voice floats over to him from somewhere behind him and his beer bottle hovers next to his lips. He blinks, hearing the steady click of her boot heels as she crosses the rooftop toward him. He feels the tingle up his spine, the hairs stand up on his arms and the back of his neck. He dips his chin, half turning his head, but not looking at her. In case he was imagining things again. It happened from time to time – echoes of the past could be a motherfucker.

"Only if someone's planning to push you off." He says, lowering the bottle and resting it on the wall, her footsteps draw to a halt and he finally turns enough to see her. He notices it immediately, a frown creasing his brow. "What happened?"

She folds her arms with a roll of her eyes, then gestures slightly to her neck. "This?"

"Yeah." He studies her, eyes narrowed.

Up the left side of her neck, what looked like a fairly recent burn scar.

"Lets just say I found the wrong answer to a bad question, and leave it at that." She gives him an answer without answering him at all, which was completely typical of Ada. His turn to roll his eyes, swigging his beer. He turns where he sits, facing her now, feet on the rooftop instead of dangling over nothing. She could push him backwards off of here and he'd stand no chance at all, should she want him dead for whatever reason. Instead she simply smiles, moving to sit beside him, he offers her a beer and she declines.

"So what brings you here? I would have thought you'd be at some fancy party somewhere, working somebody a lot richer than me." He looks at her.

She smiles. She wore a glittering red top and black leggings, thigh high boots that made her almost as tall as him. She looked expensive and beautiful, as always.

She considers his question for a while and that's strange in itself, she usually had quick answers for him. Something cryptic or scathing. Tonight she rubs her sparkling arms against the cold and looks out across the rooftop.

"That's exactly what I was doing, and then I realized something."

"What's that?"

"I realized I was really, really bored." She frowns a little and his eyebrow lifts. "Do you ever wonder where all of this ends?"

He lowers his bottle, a little fascinated. Was she drunk? "All the time. None of us are getting any younger."

"Hm." She hums thoughtfully, "Leon. I owe you an explanation."

He blinks, staring at her. "Am I drunker than I thought I was?" He asks.

"For what you saw on that tape." She continues.

He's silent, waiting.

"That wasn't me."

"Sure looked like you."

"It was one of Simmons' demented experiments. Tampering with the C Virus, effectively, he took one woman – implemented my DNA, and.. made his own Ada Wong."

Leon lets out a breath of a laugh. "Who was he to you?"

She lifts her eyes skyward. "A mistake. An expensive weekend on an expensive yacht thinking I'd learn valuable things. All I learned was that even men in the most responsible of positions can be completely and utterly insane." She laughs a little. "He became obsessed with me, and what he couldn't have."

"So he cloned you." Leon says flatly, "sounds like he took stalker to a whole new level."

"And then some."

"I'd call you a liar but.. nobody can be in two places at once. And you were." He studies her.

She nods. "Redfield and his little protegee were chasing Carla. It was her responsible for that madness, the woman Simmons used as a substitute for me. I almost feel sorry for her, being second best is never a nice feeling. But then she took crazy, vengeful bitch to a whole new level and any sympathy I had.." she waves a hand.

"Sailed out the window." He finishes.

She nods and looks at him, meeting his eyes. They hold for a few moments.

"So I haven't been sleeping with a Bio Weapon." He chuckles quietly, eventually.

Her sultry smile, that made his knees weak, spreads across her face. "Not unless you slept with Carla."

He tenses his jaw, thinking. "The last time we.. Hawaii, right?"

She nods. "Right."

"And that was last year."

"Then you are in the clear."

He lifts his bottle and takes a celebratory drink. "Good to know." He adds after he's swallowed it down. "So that's why you threw a flash grenade at me when I was trying to protect you from Hurricane Redfield." He says thoughtfully.

She laughs. "She did?"

"It was a whole.. Roadhouse showdown. He wanted to kill you – her.. I got in his way." he waves a hand, looking at her with a smile. "Good to know that wasn't the spit in the face I thought it was."

She smiles back gently. "I'm a lot of things, Leon. Evil advocate for the apocalypse is not one of them."

"So what is it that you do do?" He takes his chances.

She reaches out and plucks the bottle from his hand, lifting it to her own lips.

"You're a thief?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

She takes a sip and hands it back to him. "Sometimes."

They gaze at one another and as they do, midnight strikes. The sky above them lighting up in fireworks. They look up, watching the colors explode across the night. It's really quite beautiful. Leon looks from the glittering sky to her face, the shimmer reflected in her eyes. Not as beautiful as her.

Something shifted that night, some change in their dynamic. It was the very first time she'd ever offered information freely, or explained herself in any way. It implied trust – a trust he'd always had in her for whatever reason, but now he knew she felt it back. He didn't know why she wouldn't open up to him, but he would eventually.

That night they made love, and as he undressed her in his apartment bedroom, he discovered the burn scar travelled along her arm and slightly down her back. It was bad enough that she would wear it forever, and the once bold woman he knew – hesitated as he peeled away her sparkling top. He'd reassured her it was okay, and he'd taken his time. Kissed her scar, told her she'd always be the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

Whatever had happened to her, whatever she'd encountered in the months since Lanshiang, it had changed her. He fell in love with all of her that night, although he knew he'd always felt strongly for her. He liked to think it was reciprocated. The next night he took her out for sushi and she finally told him her real name. And on January 2nd, she vanished in to thin air.

2014 was a year that had started out as heaven, but swiftly turned in to hell. As he lost an entire SWAT team in a terrorist plot against D.C. With Ada gone and his mind in turmoil, he'd sunk to the lowest depth he ever had. He'd come so close to just ending it all, so close that when she returned to him, she found him standing on the edge, in the same spot he'd been on New Years Eve.

"If you jump, you know I'll come after you." Her voice had carried to him on the autumn breeze.

He'd looked over his shoulder at her, not quite believing she was even there for a moment. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he'd finally completely lost his mind. He'd laughed through the desperation and pain. "How do you always know when I need saving?" He'd asked.

She hadn't answered, she'd just held out her hand. "Come down. This isn't how it ends for us."

She was right. It ended a whole lot worse.

* * *

The smell of gasoline is the first thing that comes to him as he returns to consciousness. Gasoline, cold air, the prick of glass in to his skin. He blinks, grit in his eyes, coming to slowly but surely. He lets out a low groan and tries to move, his leg was pinned. Lifting his hand he rubs his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Trying to figure out where he was and what had happened. He was still in the truck, the truck was on its side. The window smashed under him and his arm pressed against the fractured glass.

He groans again, pushing against the steering wheel with his hand, trying to move it so he can get his leg free. The body of the truck had contorted somehow, the force of the collision must have been intense, they had rolled. He tries to look around, see where they had ended up. Snow on the ground, flakes falling outside and some of them drifting through Sherry's passenger window.

Sherry.

His heartrate quickens, looking for her. Where was she? The drivers side door was crushed inward, the window obliterated, there was blood on her seat. But she healed fast – really fast. Had she gotten out? Was she trying to radio for help?

"Sherry!" he calls out for her, not raising his voice too loud for fear of attracting airborne death, but enough that she should be able to hear him. "Sherry, you there?!"

No answer. He grits his teeth, slamming his hand against the wheel, whacking it a few times and then grasping, growling, shoving. Trying to move it from his pinned thigh. He gets some leverage and with a yell of effort, shifts it the fraction it needed for him to slip his leg free. The pain instantly surges through him and he hisses, collapsing to the side of the vehicle. Trying to move and sit himself up. "Shit." He hisses, panting against the pain as his blood began to spill on the snowy ground beneath the shattered glass. His lower leg was gashed open, the wheel had been acting as a tourniquet. He reaches to his utility belt and fumbles for the few medical supplies he always carried. Getting a strip of gauze, he ties it in a tight loop just above the wound, then uses the rest to bandage it. It would have to do.

"Fuck." He mutters various curses under his breath, his head thumped and touching his fingers to his temple, he finds blood there too. Just what he needed, a concussion in a car wreck. He tucks a hand in to the inside of his leather jacket and grabs his flask, bringing it to his lips after unscrewing the cap. The shot of whiskey burns his mouth and throat and sharpens him somewhat.

"Sherry!" he hollers a little louder. Beginning to grab at things to get some purchase, lift himself to his feet. He could climb out of the passenger window, get out of this wreck before it blew up. The gasoline smell wasn't fading away. Something was leaking somewhere. Still no answer from Sherry.

He growls and groans as he hauls himself to his feet, using the heel of his gun to smash out the last of the glass, he curls his hands around the edges of the metal frame and goes to lift himself up and out. The second he does, the screech of death pierces his ears. The skeletal rotting giant lands on the truck, its talons piercing through the window and missing his face by a whisper. He throws himself back to the ground, gritting his teeth. It caws and screeches again, smelling it's prey, it didn't know where he was. It could smell him. He flips his gun in his hand, heart thudding in his chest. Had one of these taken Sherry?

A fury rises in him and as the razor beak of the angel of death comes through the window at him, he fires three rounds. "Fuck you!" he snaps at it. It shrieks and recoils, then angrily strikes back, talons beginning to tear at armor and metal. It would pick this thing apart, it was almost the size of the truck as it was. He thinks fast, breath coming in quick pants. Swiftly he unravels the bandage around his leg wound and it instantly smells his blood. As soon as he has it's attention he begins moving, crawling past the driver seat, he hesitates, reaching back and snatching the radio from the console as the head and hooked beak strike at his hand. He fires another shot and all it does is anger the creature. But it does what he wants it to do.

"Come on, you ugly fuck." He hisses as he crawls backwards, making his way to the rear of the truck. The bird tries to chase him, forcing itself through the small window. It wanted its revenge and it wanted its dinner. His back hits the rear window and he elbows the fractured glass. It doesn't move. He twists and fires another two shots at it, creating more holes. He turns himself, his back to the cawing death behind him. It was struggling, scratching, biting at him. Its razor beak snapping just inches behind his head. He braces against the back of a seat and begins kicking the glass, slowly smashing his way through. The entire truck rocks as the bird forces it's way further in, he could smell the death on its breath. The stink of rotting meat and decay. With a final thump, the window gives. He eases himself out, on to the snow covered ground. Scrambling free of the wrecked truck he staggers back and onto the road. The giant, deformed creature half in and half out of the wreckage.

He spots the pool of gasoline he could smell. Lifting his gun.

"Hey.. Tweety.." he shouts at the cawing freak. Then fires.

The truck explodes, and the screams of the monstrous creature would probably alert others from miles around. But it was satisfying to watch it burn. He doubles over, getting his breath, then stands to look around himself. They were close to the town the distress signal was coming from, he could see the backs of buildings from where he stood. He needed cover and he needed it fast, so he gets moving as he reloads his gun. The fire and the burning flesh would hopefully attract any others attention before he did, but the smell of his bleeding wound was a problem.

He leaves a trail in the snow behind him – not ideal. Limping his way quickly toward the town.

He practically feels its eyes upon him. He looks behind him and up to see the shadow looming in the sky. It was hunting him like a hawk would hunt a mouse. He grits his teeth and moves faster, breaking in to the best run that he could. He hears the beat of its wings and the sudden shriek of its call and he throws himself down and rolls through, it's swiping talons missing him by inches. He rolls on to his back and fires upward, hitting it, piercing its wing. It throws it off balance slightly and it swoops upward. He dashes to his feet, ignoring the pain, running.

He hears another thud, looking behind him. Its landed, its snake like tongue tasting his blood gathered on the snow. It looks up at him with sharp, shark like eyes. Like staring in to the soul of evil. He keeps going.

Thud thud thud.

It runs and takes off, the heavy woosh of its wings unmistakable. He suddenly veers right, and it swoops and misses him again. An angry scream follows him. He snatches a metal rod from the ground as he vaults what was once part of a wall, he feels it coming again. This time he turns to face it, determined, he brandishes that steel like a baseball bat. "Batter up, fuckface." He snarls as it swoops toward him, he swings, smashing it around the head with a satisfying crack. It tumbles out of the sky and rolls into the snow. Dazed.

He bolts. Charging toward the nearest door he could see. He leaps the remains of a car and hears it getting up, screeching, angry. It knocks that car out of the way and lunges for him. He throws himself through the open door, pins his back to the wall and slams it shut with his feet, sliding the bolt swiftly. A second later, the predator slams against it. He yells in pain, the wound in his leg was agony. But he holds. He braces with everything he's worth. It pounds against the metal, Leon clenches his eyes shut, praying it would give up. That the bolt would hold, that his legs wouldn't quit on him.

Silence.

He pants, waiting. Waiting for it to pick up it's fight. For it to try again.

Nothing. His head flops back against the wall, getting his breath and processing the pain. He takes a few deep lungfuls of air and then examines his wound. More gauze, he patches it up without lowering his leg from the door. The only thing working in their favor with these creatures was their attention span. As soon as something else shiny caught their eye, like a Magpie, they were off to investigate. Though he was sure it wouldn't be far away, they were also cunning. They waited. Like that monster that had waited for Shiri.

He covers his mouth for a second. Fearing he might throw up.

Leon had never really been afraid of the undead, or of the countless Bio Terrors insane scientists had dreamed up in labs. He'd never felt the kind of core trembling terror most would when confronted with such things. You got used to it, it just became another monstrosity he had to deal with and take down. But these things? They terrified him. They didn't used to, but ever since they took his love and his unborn child – he couldn't describe it any other way. Fear. Horror. A sickness in his stomach.

Had one taken Sherry now too?

He bows his head, lacing his fingers behind it and closing his eyes. He prayed she was somewhere, sheltering. Finding safety. He couldn't lose her too. There was no time to think about it now, he begins getting himself together. A swig of whiskey from his flask, he digs the radio out of the back pocket he'd put it in to. Fiddling with buttons, technology had most definitely gone backwards. Cellphones were too hit and miss to take out on missions, and were barely used at all these days anyway. They relied on good old fashioned radio and what internet still worked.

He radios home, and wills someone to answer his call.

Nothing but static.

He adjusts a setting and tries again. After three attempts, finally, someone picks up.

"Leon? Its Jill... What happened, the distress signal vanished. So did your vehicle tracker."

He sighs, relieved but surprised to hear her voice. "They called you in?"

"I was kinda listening in to the radio chatter, I heard your tracker went down and..." she trails off. She didn't need to say it.

He nods and then flops his head back against the wall. "Something hit us. I don't know, a larger vehicle slammed into us from the side, tipped us over, took out the whole truck. Knocked me unconscious." He chews on his lip, guilt racking him. "When I came to, Sherry was gone."

He can hear the talk on the radio, people throwing information at Jill. He hoped they had something useful.

"The distress signal disappeared right around the time your tracker stopped moving." She responds after a moment, "think it was some kind of ambush?"

He considers this, drawing a deep breath. "Ambush for what? Why would they.." he trails off. "Why would they take Sherry and leave me?"

An awful feeling settles in his stomach. They knew there were groups of people that lived beyond the settlements. Groups he'd mocked in the past, calling them ridiculous for pretending like they were living out a Mad Max fantasy or something. But they existed, they were real. What would they want with a beautiful young woman?

"Shit." He mutters.

"Don't assume the worst." Jill tells him quietly.

"No the worst is one of the birds out there got her and she's dead." He answers grimly.

"Has there been activity?"

"There was one waiting for me when I woke up. I blew it up.." he chews his lip. "The truck was beyond salvaging anyway so I trapped it in there and shot out the gas tank... then another chased me to where I'm camped out now. It's still out there."

It's Jill's turn to curse.

"We'll get on the radio to the other settlements, and the Agents out there. See if anyone's seen or heard anything about a group carrying out raids." She pauses, "someone's got to know something."

He nods, rubbing his forehead. "Has anyone told Jake?"

"Nobody has heard from him. We tried to get through but no answer." Jill sighs. "Where are you?"

"The town we were headed for, barricaded in..." he glances around, then laughs limply, "what looks like it used to be a bar."

"Hold on. I'll come get you."

"Jill.." he stops her, "you sure you're ready to come out here?"

"I'm not losing you too." She says flatly.

He nods, not that she could see it. "Then bring firepower. Lots of it."

"Way ahead of you."

* * *

Two hours later, Leon remains in his position with his legs braced against that door. He'd heard a scuffling outside, he was sure it was still lurking around somewhere. He could practically feel it. He was freezing cold, shivering, his arms wrapped around himself and his breath swirling in front of him in misty wisps. The winter sun was going down and as it did the temperature was plummeting. He'd radioed home a half an hour ago, they told him Jill was almost there – and that they hadn't heard anything about Sherry so far.

He had to hope. Hope that she was alright somewhere, that one of the birds hadn't gotten her and if someone had taken her she could hang on. They would find her, somehow. Someone had to know something.

The sound of a trucks engine rouses him from his thoughts and he lifts his head. It's only once he begins to move that he realizes just how numb his body is. His legs ached, the wound in his calf throbbed, but he forces himself to finally get up. Drawing his gun he cautiously slides back the bolt of the door, easing it open a fraction at a time. He peers outside, the coast seemed clear. So with a deep breath he sneaks through, moving on ghostlike feet out in to the snowy street, he checks one way, then the other. Spotting Jill at last. The relief he felt was immeasurable and they exchange a hand gesture of acknowledgement as begins making his way toward the truck.

He watches her expression change the closer he gets, and glances behind himself. The shadow on the snow. He looks up as Jill wrenches a rifle from the back seat and gets out of the truck, taking aim.

"Leon! Move!" She yells at him. The monster hears her voice and lets out a chilling screech. He breaks in to a limping run as Jill fires three shots at the beast that stalked him. It wails in the sky, crashing to the snowy ground and rolling. It wasn't dead – nobody they knew had ever taken one out with guns alone. It was like they swallowed them. Gunfire just brought you time.

Jill keeps her gun trained on the creature as it staggers and picks itself up, unfurling its wings again. Leon reaches the truck, yanking open the passenger door and hauling himself inside. Jill fires another round between the birds eyes as it attempts to take off, then quickly climbs into the car, chucking the rifle in to his lap and slamming the vehicle in to gear, reversing.

The decaying wretch picks itself up, runs three steps and takes to the air as Jill switches gears, tires skid on the snow as she turns them, slamming her foot down, they hit the road out of town and toward home. Death hot on their tail.

"Here.."

Leon looks over to her and she hands him a grenade. It makes a smirk drift over his face. "I like the way you think."  
She turns a quick wink to him and he moves himself, opening the passenger door as they tear down the road. He balances, hooking his foot under the seat, holding on to the roof of the truck as the predator swoops in to strike. Predictably, it opens it's beak to let out that chilling caw, and as it does he pulls the pin with his teeth and makes a precision throw from the moving vehicle. Sending the grenade right down the gullet of the winged menace. It chokes and gags and tumbles from the sky and as they speed away, it explodes.

Leon holds on, watching as the hunter is engulfed in flame and burns away on the side of the road. His gaze shifts to the small town as they leave it behind. If Sherry had been hidden somewhere, she would have heard them, she would have come out at the sound of the engine.

He eases back in to the truck and pulls the door closed, looking to Jill.

"No sign of her?" He asks quietly.

"Nothing." Jill confirms, looking to him. "You're hurt.."

"My leg, it'll be alright." He nods wearily.

"And you're freezing."

"I dunno, barbecue kinda warmed me up." He quips, lifting his hands and blowing on them, his breath helping to warm his frozen fingers. Leather gloves did very little to guard against the cold.

Silence falls over them as she drives. Leon lets his head fall back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. He never used to be much for prayer, I mean who was listening that could allow the world to end up the way it had? But sometimes it was all you had. That hope, that will, that things would turn out okay. He lowers his chin, gazing out of the window as the country rolled by, blanketed by snow, glittery in the dusk.

"Hang in there, kid." He murmurs. She wasn't dead, he felt it. Whoever had her, they'd find them. Get her back. He had to hope.

Jill hears his mumbled prayer above the sound of the truck and she glances over to him, a sad smile drifting across her face. He had that haunted look on his, she knew it well. The look of a person that had seen and lost too much, couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Hesitantly, she reaches out and slips her hand over his knee. Leon lifts his head from the window, a little surprised by her gesture, he meets her eyes.

"She'll be okay." She reassures.

He simply nods. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Jake sat on the top of a water tower at one of the furthest edges of the city perimeter. It was cold, but his layers of hoodie and leather jacket protected him. He gazes out through the shimmering layer of protection that guarded them from the horrors beyond. His knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them.

It was getting dark, and he'd been sitting up here most of the day. What a way to start a brand new year.

He looks away from the slightly obscured mountains and to his hands. Between his fingers, he twists a ring. Glittering in the dying light. He sighs, then rolls it into his palm, closing his fist around it and bringing that fist to his lips.

It was the biggest decision of his life. He was ready.

Leon Kennedy kept on telling them they had to build a future, or the fight for now was pointless.

Time to make it up to her.


	5. Life After Death

**Authors Note:** Life is so complicated sometimes, isn't it?

* * *

 **How do you fix a broken heart?**  
 **How can we go back to rewrite this from the start?**  
 **Back when our world glowed from just a spark?**

 **Just give me one more time**  
 **I'll swim through the high tide**  
 **I'll stand on the front lines**  
 **I'll give it all just to see your face**  
 **And tell you it's alright**  
 **To hold you for one night**  
 **Just give me one more time**

 **I'm still alive, I still feel you. So many words, I never told you**

 **\- 7Lions**

* * *

A false sense of security. It was easy to fall in to. It had happened to all of them some time around 2016. In the wake of taking down Glenn Arias in new york, it was a little like dominoes started to fall. They cut off the head of one of bio terrors lynchpins and the pawns began to scatter. For the first time it was as if the tide had finally started to turn in their favor. The US Government began pouring even more money, more resources and more time in to defending the country and indeed the world from this biological threat. New alliances were formed, existing ones expanded upon. Everyone was sick of it. Sick of living in fear. Sick of not being able to walk down a street without the fear of some psychopath unleashing a plague of terror.

More men and women signed themselves in to the cause. Younger. Stronger. They built their army and one by one they knocked the pieces from the board.

Los Illuminados were wiped from existence once and for all. Infiltrated. Taken down. A joint effort between the USA, UK and Spanish Governments. Leon had led one of the teams to this satisfying victory, a full ten years after he had first done battle with the crazed cult.

A big bad message was sent loud and clear. We're sick of your shit, we're not taking it anymore.

China went all in. In the aftermath of Lanshiang and the massive destruction inflicted upon their country, they threw their cards down and came to war. There was barely a country that stood by, no longer happy to be passive. No longer relying upon thoughts and prayers.

The veterans that had been in this since Raccoon City finally began to see real change. Nothing like the threat of pure global destruction to at last get people motivated. It was understandable, most just wanted to live their lives. But history would tell us - twice. Don't fuck with New York.

Leon watched as his world began to change. As the whole globe joined the fight. It was a relief. At last.. at last he could breathe. He nursed old injuries, he trained new fighters. Motivated by his love at his side, glad that he'd just held on. 2015 was a year of incredible change. 2017 was a year of hope.

New powers in the bioterror world tried to rise – it was inevitable. But they were shut the hell down swiftly and efficiently. No attempt gained any traction.

By the end of 2017, Leon and Shiri decided it was time. Time to let themselves just be. They left for their paradise island in the sun, a getaway from it all, where they quietly married. Just the two of them and a minister and witness, at sunset by the sea. She wore a red and white orchid print dress that billowed in the ocean breeze. He wore comfortable jeans, no shoes and an open white shirt. She had a flower tucked in her hair.

She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

They allowed themselves to hope. Hope that they could have something beyond the war. That they could begin to build a future. That they could finally live in the world they fought so hard for. It was their time. Time to let others take over - the younger, less battle weary - and time to take back their own lives. If you didn't work toward a future, after all, then what had been the point of their fight at all?

In mid 2019 - as Chris Redfield finally married the mother of his twin girls born in 2018, and Leon and Shiri celebrated two years of marriage - they got the best anniversary gift ever. They discovered she was pregnant. It wasn't planned, she wasn't even sure that she could. Age and damage to her body being what it was. But their little miracle showed up in the form of a small blue cross, five times, over five sticks.

They thought they could. They thought they were winning. For a wonderful moment everybody involved since Raccoon City had dared to dream that their war was over.

Then one day it all went up in flames.

* * *

Helplessness was not a feeling Leon enjoyed. He clung to hope so to strongly these days, to keep from sinking back in to the dark, dangerous frame of mind he'd been in after Shiri's death. A place in which he'd attempted to take his own life, to join his love in death and be free of this nightmarish world. He couldn't go there again, he couldn't feel like that any more. So he clung to hope – and when helplessness reared it's head he felt the tug in his gut, that darkness threatening to claw its way back and swallow him whole once more. He couldn't let it. Anything to hold on – people here needed him. There was nothing else beyond, nothing to escape to, this reality was all they had.

Hold on, no matter what.

Which was why Sherry's disappearance was eating him alive.

Upon returning to their home base of operations there was as yet, no word. A handful of responses from nearby settlements telling them they'd heard nothing and no tales of rogue groups carrying out ambushes on travellers. They still awaited a reply from several others. It could take a while, and in the meantime what could they do? Stepping outside of these walls with nothing but guns and no plan was suicide, plain and simple. If they didn't know where to go or where to look and just crashed in blind like they would have done before the world went to shit, they were as good as dead. The birds would pick them off one by one. They needed a plan, they needed to know where to look, where to go, a route.

It still didn't stop him from beginning to re-arm himself and start getting ready to go to war. He had to find her, he couldn't lose Sherry too. He couldn't let her down like he let down Shiri.

It had taken Jill and three more Agents to talk him down. To literally hold him back from leaving, telling him they couldn't afford to lose him too. Jill had gotten in his way, hands to his chest and a look in her eyes that had finally stopped him. It reminded him of a look he'd seen in the mirror after he lost his wife – a kind of desperation. A pleading for the world to just give you something, anything to hold on to. Was Jill Valentine holding on to him? Had he become her last anchor to this place? It seemed like it. Truth be told, if Sherry really was gone, then Jill was all he had too.

They needed each other more than perhaps either of them would like to admit. Last of a dying breed. It was like trying to save a rare creature from extinction. The last two Unicorns on earth, clinging to one another. Or something like that.

He'd bowed his head, let the assault rifle slide from his shoulder, and bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from losing his shit – so hard he'd drawn blood.

"Its not your fault." Jill whispers to him as they stand there in the doorway of the old Police building.

He flicks his eyes back up to hers. He'd been saying the very same thing to her not so long ago. He hated that this was their reality now. That losing people had become so commonplace and yet the guilt of it never went away. Never got any easier. Never became normal.

"Leon.." she insists, her fingers bunching in his shirt, holding on to him. She was so much smaller than him and yet quite the force to be reckoned with. "I don't want to lose you as well, and you know going out there with no plan is suicide. Please."

He sighs heavily, giving her the smallest of nods. A tilt of his chin, nothing more. Her grip on his shirt relaxes a fraction.

"Then someone better come up with a plan." He says quietly, "Because as soon as Jake finds out, you know there'll be no stopping him. And I'm not letting him go alone."

Jill grits her teeth, returning his nod. "They're working on it."

He glances over his shoulder, back to the rest of their team. She was right. She was right and there was nothing he could do right now. Standing here bleeding all over the floor of their Headquarters wasn't going to achieve anything either.

"Let me take care of that wound." Jill adds, as though reading his mind.

He finally admits defeat, he was frozen and exhausted and she seemed to need to take some kind of control in this situation, so he lets her.

They leave Headquarters with strict instructions to contact them as soon as there was any news, then head back to their apartment building. They decide to go to his, it was on a lower floor and he could change his bloodied, torn up clothes. The wound was deep and despite the length of time that had passed since he'd sustained it, it was still seeping blood in places, refusing to completely close. He limps his way down the corridor to his door, dragging his keys out of his pocket and letting them in. Jill follows him inside and together they gather up the medical supplies they'd need to tend to it.

"Sit." She instructs in her no nonsense, team leader tone. He lifts an eyebrow, looking at her with mild amusement.

"I'm not on your squad, Valentine."

She peels back a wrapper from a sterile dressing and places it down, ready to use. She doesn't answer him immediately, just gestures for him to bring his foot up on to the coffee table so she can get at his calf. "You never felt naked, working without a team?" She asks him curiously once they have his boot off and the leg of his pants pushed up.

She begins cleaning the wound carefully.

He considers her question. "Not really. Lone wolf, kinda my thing." He hitches a shoulder.

Jill cleans dried blood and dirt away from the gash, studying it. "Right, you're a one man army huh. I've read the reports." She gives him a little smile. He grimaces as the cleaning solution stings.

"Not by design." He murmurs, stripping his hands of the leather gloves and dropping them down. "Just kinda worked out that way I guess."

She looks up at him, meeting his eyes. "You didn't choose this fight, did you." She says quietly.

He tilts his head a little, offering her a small smile. "Lets just say I wasn't given many options."

She frowns, dropping bloodied cotton swabs aside and switching them for fresh. "After Raccoon City?"

He nods. "The Government can be pretty persuasive when they want something from you."

"That seems crazy to me." She sighs. "How can you force someone in to risking it all."

"Telling me your hand wasn't forced in some way?" He asks her.

She considers this. "I don't think so."

"Really?" he challenges. "Cause the way I see it, all of us set out with the intent to make the world a better place, through more normal means. And the war came along and chose us. We were all in the wrong fucking places at the wrong times. Once you've seen what we've seen.." He shrugs. "How can you turn away from it?"

"I guess you can't." She looks at him intently, a little smile drifting across her face. "I couldn't."

"Exactly."

"So what would you have done if the Government hadn't stepped in and recruited you?"

He chuckles vaguely. "I'd probably have ended up in the BSAA some day."

That makes her smirk too, beginning to apply little butterfly strips to close the wound. "So you think it was your path no matter what?"

"Probably." He nods. "Why I never resented it I guess. Never.. turned my back on it. I coulda felt bitter and switched sides, played both sides, all the shit I've watched others do over the years. But it felt like my path anyway, so I stuck to it."

"Natural born good guy." Jill smiles.

"I wouldn't necessarily say good guy, I've done some awful shit in the name of taking orders." he sighs darkly.

"You have?"

He doesn't answer, just hitches a shoulder.

"Like what?"

He swallows, a kind of cloud passing over his features. "I never liked the part where I had to take human lives. Or where someone could be saved, but it wasn't part of the plan, so instead they were left."

Jill looks at him sadly. "Sometimes the biggest monsters are the humans."

"Still never made it any easier."

"Evils evil."

"Guess I always wanted to believe there was good in everybody, you just had to find it." He sighs. "If I didn't believe that I'd never have married my wife."

Jill's eyes flick back up to him.

"I had every reason in the world to think I was being played by her in the beginning. But something kept me believing she wasn't the evil people made her out to be. I don't know what.. and it was kinda vindicating to know I was right. She was just dealt a shitty hand in her life.. we all have people to answer to." He explains.

"I always wondered about that. I know there was a whole.. clone issue. Chris told me. But still, she did some awful things if the reports are true."

"Haven't we all." He answers quietly. "When someone else has your life in their hands, your choices are pretty limited. She made the best decisions she could with the options she had. And she saved my life.." he drifts off, a sadness crossing his features. "More times than I saved hers."

Jill gently places her hand on his thigh, a small comfort and understanding.

"Sometimes I feel like all I do is bring people to their deaths." He admits in a murmur. Jills brow furrows.

"You keep telling me what happened to Chris wasn't my fault. When it was my mission, my plan and my instruction that got him killed." She looks at him and he returns the gaze. "Was that a lie?"

"No."

"We've all lost people, Leon. And blaming ourselves gets us nowhere. You told me that. You haven't led anybody to their death.. least of all Shiri." She places the dressing over the wound, sticking the sides down carefully. "We're warriors, I guess it's our burden to bear when we lose others. Cause it's our nature to fight and protect."

"Hard not to feel like you failed." He agrees quietly.

"But we didn't." She adds, wrapping the dressing in a bandage, curling it around his calf.

He doesn't answer her, drifting away on his own quiet thought. Offering silent hope and prayer out to the world that Sherry was somewhere and she was okay. That he would see her again, that he hadn't driven her out to her end.

"All done." Jill tells him, throwing wrappers in a small bag of trash and taking it to his bin.

"Thankyou." he says quietly, getting to his feet at last and shrugging off his leather jacket. He begins to peel away holsters and guns, taking them to the kitchen table and setting everything down. Jill fetches him a shot of whiskey from a bottle in his cupboard and hands him the glass, which he takes gratefully. "Gonna shower." he says after a sip, "you gonna stick around?"

She looks at him and for a moment doesn't seem to know what to say.

"I'll make us food." He offers.

"Well, in that case..." she tilts her own glass to him.

It makes him laugh softly and nod, turning to head for the bathroom and a hot shower. Maybe he'd finally be able to feel his fingers again.

Pushing the door ajar he strips off his clothes, letting them fall in a heap on the floor, not caring for now. He examines the few other smaller cuts and scrapes he'd gotten in the accident and decides none of them need tending to, then he turns on the water as hot as he could stand it and steps underneath. A hot shower was his happy place. It always centered him, soaked away the horrors and the stress. He liked to brace his hands against the tile and close his eyes, let it rain down over him. It was a kind of meditation, stilling his mind at last. Nothing but the sound of the water and his own heart.

He remembers. The way Shiri used to join him. She used to tuck herself in behind him and run her hands over his back, the softest touch. Massaging away the knots and the tension. He sighs, tilting his face to the water. If he thought hard enough, he could feel her hands on him. Her light kiss between his shoulders. They really used to enjoy one another. The fondest of memories.

Swiping his hand over his face he sighs heavily, briefly running his fingers over the ring around his neck. Every day a little further away, yet he missed her all the same.

Leon finishes up in the shower and wraps a towel around his waist. Heading out to his bedroom which involved going past Jill, who tries to make out like she isn't remotely moved by the sight of him damp and steamy and so very muscular. She clears her throat after he vanishes in to his room, telling herself off. He really needed to stop looking like that, though.

She takes a sip of whiskey, focusing on the reruns on the TV instead.

He wanders back in a short while later, some black sweatpants slung low on his hips and a tank top resting over that ridiculous body. She groans a little to herself as he pads past her toward the kitchen and he hesitates, scratching the back of his neck and looking at her. "Something wrong?" he asks.

Her eyebrows shoot up and she looks at him wide eyed, shaking her head. "No, no. Nothing." She smiles over the rim of her glass as he eyes her suspiciously. "Good shower?"

"Great." he studies her. She was checking him out, he was sure of it. He isn't quite sure what to do with that realization and he clears his throat. "Spaghetti?"

"Sounds great."

"Sounds simple." he jokes, "and I think I got a jar of sauce."

"Chef of the year." Jill teases him back.

"You know it." He sighs, heading for the kitchen and rummaging through cupboards to find the things he needed.

"Would you mind if I took one?" Jill asks, standing up. He looks over to her curiously and she clarifies. "Shower."

"Go ahead." he smiles. Realizing she was still in combat gear herself and that was never particularly comfortable. Jill vanishes in to the bathroom and while water boils, he goes back in to his bedroom and digs out a couple of things. One of his shirts and a pair of shorts Sherry had left once and never picked up.

He knocks on the bathroom door and hears her reply. He carefully opens it, doing his best not to look in the direction of the shower. "Just a couple of things to put on till you go back to your place." He says, placing them down on the floor just inside and backing out.

Weird. Wasn't like they hadn't seen each other naked, still, he was a gentleman and neither of them had even mentioned that night since it happened. It was what it was. He returns to making the spaghetti. Stirring sauce when she emerges, drawing his attention.

Why did women always look so good in your clothes? It's his turn to force himself to stop looking as she drops her stuff down near the door and crosses over to him, brushing up against him she leans over to smell the food. "Smells good, Gordon Ramsey." She smiles up to him.

He dips a spoon in the sauce and tastes it. "I added some things but mostly we have to thank.." he pauses, picking up the empty jar. "These people." He shows her the label and makes her laugh. He offers her a taste.

She hesitates, looking at him as he offers her the spoon. Drawing a deep breath, she takes it from his hand, fingers grazing – she lifts it to her lips.

"That's pretty good." She agrees.

"Considering the world ended around us, not bad, huh." He says quietly, gently taking the spoon back.

"Bright side to losing half the population. Overstocking." She says cautiously and with a bit of a grimace.

"Careful. Thanos will recruit you." he warns.

"You're such a nerd." She laughs, smacking his elbow.

"Keep it between us." He winks at her.

She looked more beautiful than he could ever remember seeing her, with her damp – towel dried hair hanging around her shoulders and a subtle smile on her lips. It was good to see her smile, for too long now he'd seen nothing but pain in her eyes. He couldn't tell you what possessed him to do it, but he lifts his hand, gently touching her cheek. Her eyes flick up from the sauce to him and her mouth parts a fraction, a little breath drawn as he touches her. It made her heart flutter in her chest and causes a kind of ache between her legs. What an effect for a man to have. Had Leon always been this intense?

How had she never seen this before.

She doesn't stop him. She doesn't want to. And he doesn't stop himself, though he should. His other hand comes up and he carefully cups her face, drawing her closer. Her hands rest on his arms.

"Leon.." she says his name in a breath.

"Should I stop?" he asks quietly.

"No." Her simple, whispered answer ends in a kiss. Cautious, lips barely brushing together. Jill lets out the tiniest mew of a sound and it emboldens him, sinking deeper in to her. Tongues meeting. Passionate, drawing each other closer. It was different to the first time. The first time had felt drunk and awkward and like nothing quite fit. Their chemistry clumsy at best. Here something shifted, suddenly he was seeing her and desiring her and she felt the same. The prospect of losing him today had sunk like a stone inside her, she couldn't. She needed him.

One hand leaves her and he's aware enough to switch the stove off before lifting her from her feet. Gripping her ass, she curls her legs around him and wraps her arms around his neck and he presses her against a wall. Diving in to one another, she rolls her hips against him, an urgency building. She gets a glimmer of who the Leon all the women around her had lusted after was. Intense and commanding. She could totally see it now, he was intoxicating. Made you feel like the most desirable woman on earth.

She drags her hands through his hair and he pins her with his hips, bringing his own fingers up to unbutton the shirt she wore. She lifts herself, arching against him as the material falls open. He takes her in, rumbling something about how beautiful she looked. It melts her inside and she leans back in to his lips. He pulls her from the wall and carries her in to his bedroom. An arm looped under her and her legs around his waist, he crawls on to the bed and lies her down beneath him. He reaches for his own tank top and pulls it over his head, tossing it aside.

Jill smiles and strokes over his chest, dipping a hand low and tucking beneath his sweatpants to take him in hand, encouraging his arousal. He growls and reclaims her lips, a searing kiss that stole her breath and sent a bolt of electricity right between her legs. She moans in to his mouth, stroking as he hardens in her palm.

They break for air and he kisses over her cheek and down her neck. She releases her grip on him as he moves southward, that shirt of his discarded, he sucks her nipple in to his mouth and she tangles her hands in his hair, arching and moaning. Lifting her hips to him needily. He takes the hint. A hand sliding over the flat slope of her belly and tucking between her open legs, touching her over the material of those shorts.

She gasps, a shiver running through her. Her eyes closing. She swipes her tongue over her lips and her breath hitches as his mouth moves over her skin. She goosebumped, she wanted him inside her. No meltdowns this time. No losing herself in misery. She was here and she was present and she wanted nothing but him.

He rids her of her shorts and his mouth finds the center of the ache between her legs. "Oh God.." she moans as he uses his tongue to taste her, it had been forever and she'd forgotten how good it felt. Her thighs tremble either side of him and he drapes one of her legs over his shoulder. Holding her hips. Nibbling, licking, driving her to the edge of her tolerance. She pleads with him, her voice coming in pants and moans. He sucks on the center of her pleasure and she comes undone, crying out loudly and shaking beneath him. He holds her legs, seeing her through with a gentle massage of his tongue. Until she's shivering and quiet, tiny aftershocks making her jerk and giggle.

He lifts his head. No tears this time.

Leon pushes his sweatpants down from his hips and discards them. Jill welcomes him down to her, hooking her ankles behind his thighs and drawing her knees up, more than ready to receive him. And suddenly it's his turn for emotion to creep in. He hadn't made love since Shiri, he'd made vows to her that he swore he'd never break. That she'd be the only one. He shudders a little, eyes closing. The ring hung around his neck still.

Jill leans her cheek against his as he hides his face in the crook of her neck.

"Leon.." she whispers. Stroking his back.

His breath hitches, and he lowers a hand, guiding himself to her. She felt so good. He battles with his own brain. Jill kisses his neck and lightly runs her nails over his ass. He carefully eases inside her and the feelings overwhelming. Like sinking in to bliss, her velvety warmth welcoming him. His heart was thundering, and he lets out a groan of his own against her skin. Part pleasure.. part an awful sense of guilt. He closes his eyes tightly once he's buried inside her. Two trembling bodies. She holds him.

She could sense he wasn't okay. She does her best to soothe, stroking his back and his arms. But then she feels a slight dampness against her neck and she closes her eyes.

"It's okay.." she whispers to him. "It's alright to move on."

She says those words and he reacts. The sound he makes is a little heartbreaking.

She coaxes him to lift his head which he seems embarrassed to do. Holding his face, she runs her thumbs beneath his eyes, swiping away the tears there. "It's okay.." she whispers to him again, looking in to his eyes. "We deserve this."

He gazes back at her. The guilt sitting heavy on his heart. But she was right. It had been over a year and a half since he lost his wife, and if he knew Shiri, she would want him to live his life. Want him to keep being the Leon that she fell in love with. He just missed her so fucking much.

Jill lifts her head, carefully kissing his lower lip, then the top. He swallows, getting his bearings, and after a few moments he returns it. Losing himself in this beautiful woman that was here and that wanted him and that knew the same pain he felt. It's comfort and solidarity and release. They move together, pain giving way to pleasure. He grips her thighs, reclaiming his old self, driving in to her harder and faster. A steady build toward relief. They don't rush, they feel every moment. She wraps herself around him and savors the feel of him inside her. Clinging to him, grasping, encouraging him.

"Harder." She pants against his cheek as a fierce kiss breaks. He grants her wish, crashing together until her nails dig in and a strangled cry turns in to a loud curse. A yell of his name. He unravels with her, pounding in to her until the world falls apart around him and he growls and curses against her neck. Panting. Pinning her to the bed, pouring it all in to her.

They still. Thundering hearts, sweat slicked bodies. He rests his forehead against her shoulder and breathes hard, doing his best to steady himself. After a little while, she laughs softly under him, making him lift his head and look at her.

"Where did that come from?" he asks with the same small chuckle.

"Pasta sauce, apparently." She puffs some hair from her eyes, and he tucks it back for her.

"Thankyou." he says quietly.

"For the sex?" she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow.

He smiles a little. "You know what for."

She gazes at him, giving him the slightest nod and bringing her hands up to gently take his face, she lifts her head and kisses his brow. "You're welcome." She murmurs against it.

He closes his eyes, breathing.

It didn't mean he loved Shiri any less, or missed her any less.

It just meant he was allowed to live.

That it was okay.

They carefully part and he tugs his sweats back on, going to see if he can salvage the pasta while she deals with the usual post sex situations. He's re-doing the spaghetti when she emerges from the bathroom in his shirt again, coming over to him, she leans her cheek against his back. It felt nice. He wasn't sure what this meant for them, if it was just sex, or if it was something more. They needed to have a conversation. But for now – for now it was nice to just be.

He serves up their dinner and they sit and eat. Keeping things light after an exhausting day. It's as they're finishing up that there's a banging at his door. Leon frowns, putting his plate aside and getting up as Jill stands to clear their things away. He heads over to the door and opens it up.

His heart drops in to his gut as he pulls it open to reveal Jake.

Jake, who looks from him to Jill and does the math in his head in a heartbeat.

"You two are hanging out here fucking while my girl is out there?!" He shouts at them. Pushing past Leon and in to the apartment. Jill looks wide eyed, hiding her naked lower half behind a counter. "What happened, Leon. Details? HQ says nobody has any idea where she is, that she might have been abducted?!"

"Jake.." Leon holds a hand out to him. "We were trying to get hold of you since this morning. Yes, it was some kind of ambush. A distress signal sent out, turned out to be bait. I don't know who they were or what they want with Sherry."

"Someone must know something." The younger man looked desperate, and honestly Leon knew how he felt. "We should be out there looking for her."

"Going out there with no idea where she is and no plan is suicide, Jake." Jill speaks up. "We need something to go on. People are looking."

"And you two are doing what to help? Besides knocking boots?" Jake snaps.

"That's not fair.." Jill defends them.

Leon grits his teeth. "I was out there for hours, Jake. Where were you?"

"Do not turn this on me."

"Why not? You were meant to be there. Where did you go? What were you fighting with her about?"

"She didn't tell you?" Jake waves a hand at him. "I thought she told you everything."

"Didn't tell me what?" He asks.

Jake puts his hands on his hips, looking between them. Then he swipes his hand over his face, shaking his head. "She's pregnant." He says flatly. "You lost my pregnant girlfriend.. so YOU should be doing something about it."

Leon feels like he got punched in the chest. His mouth falling open.

He can't breathe.


End file.
